Far Away From Here
by Tastytime
Summary: That famous quarrel with Craterus, and Hephaestion's summary decision to return to Macedon. Alexander x Hephaestion. First chapter. T for now. Chapter Five now up!
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Far Away From Here

**Chapter**: This is either a two or three parter

**Fandom:** Alexander (historical)

**Rating:** PG-13 this chapter. Will rise by final.

**Summary**: That famous quarrel with Craterus, and Hephaestion's summary decision to return to Macedon.

**A/N**: This would actually fit better into canon if the argument had occurred after the marriages at Susa, but since the characters of history seem peculiarly unwilling to change the course of history all for little old me, I guess it'll have to do.

**Dedicated to: **It always seems such cheek for me to presume to dedicate what is scarcely terrific work, to a better writer, but be that as it may, this is dedicated to **Moon71**, since I was reading her excellent 'Rediscovery' fiction.

There was no doubt in Hephaestion's mind that the thing which would have given him the most pleasure at this point in time would be to have rammed a sword between Alexander's ribs and straight into his heart thus making Alexander's physical state analogous with Hephaestion's mental. He was in no mood for trifling- just seconds before, he had threatened to beat one of his pages to within an inch of his life, if he dared speak without being spoken to again. It was a testament to his willpower that his chamber remained intact, when there was nothing he would have preferred to do than rip it apart. He stared at his sword, studying the beautiful deadliness, and entertained a brief fantasy of murdering Alexander. There was not enough inducement in this world or the next to make him consider turning the blade upon himself. He would not give Alexander the satisfaction of hounding him to death. Suicide would but merely confirm all that they said about him- that without the king's favour he was as nothing. And now the spiteful gossip had been confirmed and by the king's own mouth as well. Now his fury was festering within him, like pus within a rotting wound, and turning the utmost love into the deadliest hate.

At that moment he decided something. He would return home to Macedon. He thought in pleasure of the lush green beauty of his homeland, the rolling hills, peaceful lakes and the harmonious environment he always associated with Macedon. He had property in his own right there, inherited after the death of his parents, and after this war, money in plenty. Hephaestion realised with some astonishment that that was what he yearned for above all else. He was tired of war to an extent, weary of fighting without cessation. His heart was changing and he was discovering within himself a wish for peace that he had never known before. All he wished for was a house of stone, lands to tend and above all the quietness and solitude that one could find in no place in the army. They might call him coward, little more than a prostitute who had fallen out of favour with the king, and was now being pensioned off, but for the first time Hephaestion could not find it within himself to care what 'they' said. He knew he was not a coward, and that for the moment was enough.

He called his page in, and smiling at the poor lad, gave him a coin in recompense for his bad temper, commanding him to fetch the rest of his staff. When they assembled, he informed them of his decision. Calling his chief subordinate- a man named Denaris forward; he named him the new commander, and successor to Hephaestion's position, though he was afraid, he said laughingly that his recommendation would do him more ill than good, now that he was so disgraced. There was utter silence as he politely dismissed them, and turned to the packing of his personal effects that he would not leave to the careless ministrations of a slave.

Some time later, after a lot of whispering in the outer room, he heard a polite knock upon the door. On opening it he was confronted by Denaris and a delegation. Hephaestion let them in, seating them, curious as to their purpose. Denaris was a straightforward man, and he came straight to the point. He was not of noble birth, but through Hephaestion's patronage and his own sturdy good sense he had risen to a position of eminence. "Milord," he addressed Hephaestion as was his wont, (though he had been admonished many times not to be so formal, his lower status still urged him to courtesy.) "We do not mean to interfere in your business, but we wish to voice our distress. You have been wrongfully treated, and we cannot stand by and observe this injustice. You are an excellent commander, and your troops would do anything for you. Not merely for their leader, but for one they look upon as a friend and an ally." Hephaestion had never known how popular he was with his troops. He had noticed vaguely that he rarely seemed to have the minor insubordinations that the rest of his colleagues appeared to, but had attributed that to good men and an excellent second in command. He did not know that his scrupulous fairness, liberality with money, and his genuine interest in the doings of his men had won him not only their respect but their love. They disapproved of his leniency towards Persians, but were convinced that he fought for their rights, and that being pro-Persian was merely a facade. As many a sage warrior said after a drink or two, he was playing them at their own game of politeness, and thus throwing the savages off their guard. They appreciated this cunning, and were sure that Hephaestion was a master of playing a double-game for their benefit.

Hephaestion replied cautiously still not seeing the point with this. "I know and I thank you all for your concern and your loyalty."

Denaris continued. "Well the thing is sir. The soldiers have expressed their willingness to support you. "When Hephaestion did not respond, he clarified his speech further."They are willing to follow you, _wherever_ you might lead."

Finally Hephaestion understood and he was touched beyond words. His soldiers outraged at this insult to him, and by proxy to themselves as well, were tacitly indicating that should he wish to in effect mutiny, that they would support and follow him. This was despite knowing that their numbers were not nearly large enough to take on the rest of the army, and knowing the punishment Alexander meted out to mutineers. It warmed him, this trust in him, even as it made him grow cold at the implications. That soldiers of Alexander's, were choosing him above their king and lord, was an indication more than anything of the soldiers growing disaffection with the king's leadership, and for the first time a tendril of doubt crept into his heart at his decision. Was he acting the spoiled child, angry at a trifle, storming off without cause, leaving Alexander his back unprotected in a court where no-one cared for the man only the king? Then he rebuked himself. It had not been a trifle what Alexander had said. It had been a cold denigration of everything they had shared, a dismissal of who Hephaestion was as a person, a subjugation of spirit and thought that could not have cut more deeply if it had been consciously thought out.

For there of course was the real sting. Alexander had not planned the confrontation. The words had slipped so easily and naturally from his mouth because _that_ _was what he thought. _And Hephaestion was tired, so tired. For what felt like centuries he had fought tooth and nail, against what he was depicted as in the court by those who were jealous of his power and influence. An essentially worthless man with no talents of his own, who had somehow managed to wind himself in the king's favour, by sleeping with him. He had lived through months, where he had not seen a friendly face from one day to the next outside of his own command. Where men he had known since boyhood broke off their conversations when he entered the room. And he had thought all the time, that there was one place he was safe, in the embrace of his beloved. To find that exactly the same opinion was thought of him inside the bed as out of it, was a final straw on the back of an already too burdened man. With Alexander's love behind him he could have done anything, suffered anything. And to find out so late that perhaps love so flawed was not worth anything, was crushing his spirit.

Realising that he had perhaps hesitated too long in his answer, being caught in his musings, he smiled at the delegation. He had no skill with speeches like Alexander did. His voice always sounded thin to him, his words the same, no matter how much he meant them, but he did his best to rise to the occasion. "Dear friends," he addressed them. "Your loyalty means more to me than mere words can possibly suggest, and I am honoured to be so presented with such devotion. But the best thing that I can do now, is to urge you to accept your new command with good grace. I go home, unless I change my mind. Back to my country, which is also your country. You will be remembered in my prayers to the Gods, that I can assure you, and I shall sacrifice to Athena in gratitude for such a display of friendship." He bowed solemnly to them, and pressed each hand. The delegation filed out more than a little relieved. Hephaestion touched Denaris's arms for a moment to indicate he should remain behind for a moment. Moving to a chest, he shook out a tunic. Made of white with gold trim, it was as clean as though it had never been worn, and indeed it had only been worn once. Turning to Denaris, he gave him the tunic. "I was given this tunic as a mark of esteem on receiving this command from a good friend of mine." He remembered with fondness that it had been Nearchus the peacemaker, who was nearly the only one of his own friends, who had not become estranged from him over the years. "I give it now to you to keep, even if it is seen fit to refuse you command of the force. Take it as a mark of my esteem. It may need to be let out a bit, but I'm sure your wife is more than capable. How is she by the by after the babe?"

Denaris's homely face creased in pleasure. "She's recovering well milord, after her fifth lying in. She has been delivered of a son, as you know, and she insists that she will call him Hephaestion after you." Hephaestion laughed, and Denaris continued. "I speak for both myself and my wife, when I thank you for what you have done for our family."

Hephaestion waved it off firmly. "Talent deserves to be recognised, and I merely gave you the opportunity. You did all the work."

Denaris shook his head equally as firmly. "You gave me a chance to prove myself and that means very much to me. Rest assured you will always have a friend in me and mine if there is ever anything I can do for you."

Hephaestion paused. "There is one thing," he said slowly, and waited for Denaris's assenting nod. "Alexander is a leader beyond any even in legend. He has accomplished more than any of us thought possible. Keep them loyal to him. At the moment plunder holds them, but I have a feeling that soon their loyalty may be tested." No need to ask who 'them' were. "Protect him for when I can't." Denaris nodded slowly as he left holding the tunic.

Hephaestion called in his page. Timonus was a slender boy with an anxious face. Auburn hair was held back neatly from his features which had the uncommon fairness of skin that so often went with that shade of hair. Hephaestion privately doubted the lad would ever make a warrior- his head was too full of fanciful notions for such a thing, and he already displayed a marked preference for the pen over the sword, but he was of an amiable disposition and though naturally inquisitive, had the sense to keep his nose out of Hephaestion's business. He sent the boy out for another jug of wine, ignoring the curiosity written on the features of the lad.

Being alone in the tent however made sure that his thoughts came rushing back to overwhelm him. Doubts, fears and the ever present sadness were only part of the emotions he felt. He tried to think of Alexander objectively, but prodding the wound made it hurt even more, and every time he tried to remember times when they had been happy together- winter mornings when they had woke, sharing each others heat, and reluctant to leave the bed, languorous summer days and crisp rides in cool air sharing their silence, but all he could see in his mind's eye was Alexander saying those words. The words that no matter how stoically he had listened to them had burned more than anything else in his life. The words that had caused his precious world to crumble. _Fool. Madman. Idiot. _And of course the piece d'resistance '_You are nothing without me.'_

Of course the irony was, he wasn't. Without Alexander he was just another foreign noble's son, and not even an important one at that. But what those fools and sycophants did not realise, was that neither were they. Every single one of their lives rested on Alexander, every appointment they held was through his pleasure, and he could take it in an instant and for no reason. He still loved Alexander of course. That was his curse. If he hadn't he could have shrugged and ignored the words dismissing them as nothing more than words thrown out in the heat of the moment. But for Hephaestion who had loved him with the whole hearted fervour with which a priest worshipped a God to whom he had dedicated his life, they were knives that shredded his protective outer casing, and penetrated to his heart.

He didn't know if he could live away from Alexander. Alexander had made him feel alive all his life, given him a lustre that did not come from within. Even as a coltish teenager, he had felt that Alexander's regard had caused his body to metamorphosis from awkwardness to beauty, and he had had no doubt that Alexander had felt the same way. But perhaps now was the time to go. Before Alexander's love for him was wholly corrupted and defiled by his impatience and anger, before it became spoiled by rage and insults. Before Hephaestion himself became entangled within the lies and deceit, and started not to care about what Alexander thought about him. It was the first time in his life he had ever run away from something. It was the first time he had ever wanted to.

_I know the quarrel scenario has been done to the utmost, and by far better Alexander writers than I (who I shall not name here for fear of bringing a blush to their faces XD,) but I hope that perhaps this is not wholly unoriginal, and may focus on a rather different angle than the rest, by touching upon the political aspects of such a quarrel, and Hephaestion's relations with those other than Alexander. It also seems rather ironic to have Hephaestion tired of war at this point when we all know what a distance he still has to go._

_Thanks for reading, and reviews heartily welcomed._


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Far Away From Here

**Chapter**: Second part

**Fandom:** Alexander (historical)

**Rating:** PG-13 this chapter. Will rise by final.

**Summary**: That famous quarrel with Craterus, and Hephaestion's summary decision to return to Macedon.

**A/N**: I must apologise for some few anomalies in this chapter, which mostly appear because I could not find the correct words for Macedonian concepts, which is why such words as 'duel' crop up, which are more reminiscent of the 17th century perhaps. Also apologies for the fact that I cannot for the life of me think up decent character names, any help in that direction- or formatting is greatly appreciated.

**Dedicated to: **Again this chapter is dedicated to **Moon71**, as I'm still enjoying Rediscovery!

I also have to say I was overwhelmed at the response to this. Thank you very much for reviews to: chibisanzo, CoralDawn, HavenRain, moon71, Fanfic Lover 4evr, Lysis, Yolass, Arlad, Sunny-seid-up, Baliansword, Sushoo, TrustNoOne, Mariana, Queendel, Manidefronsac and KK

The first Alexander heard of the situation, was not from Hephaestion's lips at all, but from his page. Laonicus was a good friend of Timonus, and the other boy had instantly sought him out, when he had been given instructions to fetch wine- in other words, to leave Hephaestion alone, in order to share the piece of gossip. Lord Hephaestion was leaving the army to return to Macedon! Laonicus was properly astonished, and Timonus was pleased at his reaction. "Does King Alexander know?" asked Laonicus, already certain that he did not. Alexander when he had last seen him, had been in a bad mood, but not in the sort of mood that his best friend abandoning him would have meant.

Timonus shook his head earnestly. "I don't think so. Lord Hephaestion only summoned his deputies in a little bit of time ago, and they were the first people he spoke to between now and.." he hesitated, looking for the right words to describe the vicious attack Alexander had made upon Hephaestion, "the incident," he finished with finally.

Laonicus tapped his lips with a finger, thoughtfully. A handsome boy, he was taller than Timonus by half a head, and six months older, sharing the rich blond hair of his master, though his eyes were brown rather than green. "If Lord Hephaestion does leave, will you go with him ?" he asked directly.

Shifting uneasily, Timonus wondered how to reply. "I think Lord Hephaestion will decide that," he said finally.

Laonicus pressed on, strangely insistent. "But what do you _want _to do?"

As always when put directly to the question, Timonus attempted to evade it. "It really isn't my choic.." he began, only to be stopped by a raised eyebrow. Laonicus always had the ability to cut right to the point, something that Timonus by nature longwinded, envied deeply. "I don't want to go back," he said, startled to find that was the truth. True, he did often get tired of the long marches, and constant waiting upon Lord Hephaestion, though he honestly wasn't a strict master, always preferring to dress himself, quite often giving Timonus the night off when King Alexander came round to talk strategy to him and not expecting Timonus to share his bed, as many of the other pages had to with their commanders, but that didn't mean he wanted to go home to Macedon, before he even got a chance to be a hero. This was the greatest campaign ever, and Timonus didn't want to miss it.

Laonicus smiled, "fair enough," he remarked casually. "But now my dear friend, you have given me a difficult problem, and must help me find its solution. Should I tell the King what has happened, or should I wait for your lord to tell him? If I do not tell him now, he might accuse me of knowing and not telling him, but if I tell him then he is certain to _get _angry. So cough up an answer."

Timonus sighed. "Why do you always ask me hard questions?" he complained. Laonicus merely smiled. Timonus thought for a few moments, then shrugged. "Tell him I suppose.." he trailed off, before raising an objection to his own line of reasoning, "but then he might think it was public gossip and everyone was talking about it."

"Which they _are,_" pointed out Laonicus.

"Just you and me," Timonus objected. "That's scarcely public gossip is it?"

"Well that's two people, who know before the king does, and then there are the Lord Hephaestion's deputies, and probably _their _pages know by now, so soon everyone will know."

Timonus nodded, figuring he probably wasn't cut out for being a leader, if he found it this difficult to decide on an answer to the question. "Don't tell him," he said finally, "but pretend to be shocked when you find out."

Laonicus nodded seriously. "I think you're right you know," in that half mocking, half serious tone that he sometimes adopted with Timonus, when he thought the younger boy should have thought of something faster.

Timonus had long ago stopped being annoyed at such comments, Laonicus was permanently good natured, and Timonus loosing his temper only seemed to amuse him even more. He merely seized the wine and made his farewell. Hastening back to the tent, he walked timidly into the room. Hephaestion merely glanced up at him, and bade him set the wine down. When he had done that, he backed towards the door. Hephaestion though almost invariably good-tempered, could sometimes break spectacularly loose, and Timonus didn't want to be anywhere near by, when that happened, as he was certain it was going to do. He had no such luck in his attempted escape however. Without even looking up again, Hephaestion told him to wait. Inscribing a final word on the document he was holding, he sealed it, and held it. "Take this to the King," he said politely. "Wait for an answer."

Timonus with visible reluctance accepted his charge, and with dragging footsteps walked to the King's abode, where the aforementioned King was pacing nervously and dragging his fingers through his hair. Timonus exchanged a look with Laonicus, and raised his eyebrows as he did so. Alexander recognised Hephaestion's page of course, and instantly seized the letter from his hands. "I was told to wait for a reply," stuttered Timonus.

Alexander did not appear to hear him, absorbed as he was by the letter he was currently reading. When he looked up, Timonus barely restrained his surprise. Alexander's eyes were lethal, more those of some wild beast, like those of the wolf than of a Gods-fearing man. Another man, might have given vent to imprecations, perhaps resorted to physical violence on the furniture, Alexander merely expressed his feelings through his eyes, yet Timonus shrunk back from him, as though from the God-touched, some one more gifted, and more _real _than any mortal had the right to be. His words were calm and steady. "I will convey my own reply Timonus." There was no arguing with that voice. Timonus instinctively bowed low before a King whom he had never seen truly before so close. That preternaturally restrained voice continued speaking. "I shall be there in a few minutes."

Timonus took that as his dismissal, and hurried to warn Lord Hephaestion of the King's imminent arrival. Hephaestion neither seemed abashed nor surprised, instead he gave a queer little smile that Timonus could find no cause for her. It was not until he was older, that he realised it was the sort of a smile given, when something came to a head, was now utterly unavoidable. The smile one turned on fate, when she attempted to trip you up. Quietly he dismissed Timonus, fixing him with a look that he did not even need to explain. This was one conversation that Timonus would not 'overhear.'

Hephaestion himself was utterly calm, when he received the news that Alexander was hastening towards his attempt. With the immovability of one who truly believes himself to be morally in the right, he was entrenching himself mentally within a chosen position, and sticking to it. Too long had he been the willing, subservient other half, of a man who truly assumed that Hephaestion could be cast aside like any other tool that had been used up. He would not debase himself, by shouting, by turning this into a screaming match for the whole army to hear. He would not act the jealous jilted lover, for the amusement of his erst-while friends. He would act with dignity, and ignore all Alexander's frenzied complaints. He had no doubt they would be there. Alexander's grip on those he loved, was a death grip, even those for whom his love was fading were suffocated by his hand around their throat, demanding what any other lover would have begged. It was unfortunate that some of these very respectable resolutions were broken within moments of the argument beginning.

One of the reasons why Hephaestion particularly wanted to keep the argument quiet, without any of the shouting and general aggression that his arguments with Alexander usually consisted of, even apart from not wanting the entire world to known his affairs and business, was because such arguments could only end in one way, with them choosing to fight it out in bed, rather than with words after time, and he wanted to make it clear that was _not _a satisfactory conclusion to this argument. He was not to be beguiled into forgiving and forgetting this time. He was going to carry his resolution through if it killed him.

It was thus a rather different situation in which Alexander and Hephaestion met to one that they had ever met in before, and both of them found something secretly to surprise them in the other. Alexander found a resolve, and a steely determination that though he had known Hephaestion had possessed such qualities, had more often been used in defence of Alexander, or in his service than as an attack against him. Hephaestion saw a part of Alexander he had never seen before, a part that was almost savage, chained and leashed by an awesome self-will. As Timonus had thought, now so did Hephaestion. Alexander's eyes were more reminiscent of a wolves than a mans.

Alexander's first words were almost civil. "I've come in reply to your missive," he said so calmly, that Hephaestion hoped for a moment that there would be no fight, that Alexander would gracefully bow to the inevitable. One look at the other man's eyes though, and he was disillusioned from such a hope.

Hephaestion picked at the thread dangling from his sleeve. "I'm glad you received it. Perhaps you have come to tie up some loose ends?" Given his current action, he was hard put from a fit of nervous laughter, that accosted him at the pun.

Alexander said, with no drama. "I will imprison you before allowing you to return to Macedon."

Hephaestion stared at him with eyes that strayed perilously close to insolent. "Really? And would you care to elucidate _why _my King?" The title held a world of contempt for the force that Alexander could employ.

Alexander could not even explain to himself that motivation, perhaps the covetous nature he had inherited from Philip was shining through. Not greediness for gold and jewels, nor even for the good opinion of others, but merely and simply for love, and for possession. "You told me once Hephaestion that you loved me." Words that could have sounded humble, even repentant from another mans lips, sounded arrogant from Alexander's, a denial that he could ever be crossed in his will. "Is your love so inconsistent, so fragile indeed?"

There was a short pause, while Hephaestion struggled to enunciate his reply. "I could ask you precisely the same question. The Sacred Band of Thebes chose to die in their lovers arms, rather than be shamed by fleeing. I do not ask you to die for me, but I expect as any man has a right to, that their lover would rather die than denigrate their honour, or allow their honour to be denigrated without combating the cause. I fight your battles by your side Alexander, have fled with you in the night when you feared sudden death, and yet all I asked in return was reciprocation of my feelings, not the heartless taunt of a man lost to the common decent impulse."

Alexander licked his lips. "I am the King, Hephaestion."

The response was quick and bitter. "But you are also a man, and once I believed you a lover. Did not Plato expect different conduct from lovers, even granting them leniency he would grant no-one else? 'The actions of a lover have a grace which ennobles them,' he quoted bitterly. "I am the fool, not you Alexander. I believed that perhaps I meant more to you than I do. And I pay for my foolishness, as fools do and must. Now I inform you, that I am leaving, and I tell you to stand aside. Tell you, not entreat."

Anger hardened Alexander's face. "You will tell me nothing. I was angry when I said what I did, angry that you of all people should start a quarrel, when the situation was so tense, that you should bring it to the point of swords. If you killed him, then what? I lose an excellent commander, and a good man, a friend, and gain merely the hostility of those he commands. And if he killed you? I lose the person I love most in all the world. Neither loss is wanted or needed. What should I have done? Let you both in your pride, and destructive anger force the situation?"

"Yes!" Hephaestion's reply was swift and anguished. "Yes Alexander, out of love you should have left us to it. By saving a man's life, you destroyed my honour. By the Gods Alexander can you not see? A man is nothing without honour. His word is not to be trusted, his embrace of fellowship a mere deceit, he is little better than a slave. And if insults were the only way to accomplish this 'saving of life,' then why target me so viciously? Why not us both? Your mere presence was enough to stop the duel from going ahead." He finished hopelessly. He could have enumerated the points for hours, so intensely had he thought them over, but he doubted Alexander wanted that, wanted his actions scrutinized so deeply that all shields seemed as but water. "Love is not rational," he said softly. "It is without reason or rhythm, it does not bow to the dictates of the head. If love had motivated you, you would have taken Craterus's death, rather than my dishonour."

"No," argued Alexander. "If you had killed Craterus, then public opinion would have run high against you would have clamoured for your head even. Your claims that love would have allowed the killing are absurd."

"Just let me go home," Hephaestion said through gritted teeth. "You deny me honour, and you deny me love, and I cannot tell which of the two hurts more. Let me leave Alexander, as a wounded to the death animal does, crawling off to lick its wounds and die alone. Leave us with memories of what we once had, before you begin to hate me for whatever reason your mind dredges up." He hated how defeated he sounded, and thought wryly of how the conversation _should _have gone. Alas high sounding convictions cut no ice with Alexander, who viewed the world as his realm, and its people his subjects.

The next words struck him dumb. "Your problem Hephaestion is that you are cold." This from a man who had in cold blood insulted and betrayed him, stabbed him in the back even, as Hephaestion's colourful imagination painted it, was almost too much to take. Before he could voice his outrage, Alexander continued on relentlessly. "You do not see what is done for your sake, only what is not done. You never stretch out a hand to anyone. I had to win your favour, win your love when we were scarcely more than children, and hold it throughout all trials, without you ever indicating you would in any way be the poorer without it. And then you wonder, how my anger can be such as to throw such terrible insults at you in front of others, after you the man I expected to try to keep the peace, deliberately disturbed it out of mere antipathy towards another man. You abused your position, and I won't stand for it." Deliberately, he locked eyes with Hephaestion. "You are not going back to Macedonia. You will stay and build a kingdom with me, and with Craterus and Perdicaas and whomsoever I chose. Because that my love," the last two words were almost bitter, " is the price of my love for you. If it won't be paid for in the coin of generous free love of your own, then you can damn well pay for it with the coin of co-operation."

Fighting words indeed. Only a couple more chapters to go, unless the muse strikes (unlikely.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Far Away From Here

**Chapter**: Three

**Fandom:** Alexander (historical)

**Rating:** PG-13 this chapter. Will rise by final.

**Summary**: That famous quarrel with Craterus, and Hephaestion's summary decision to return to Macedon.

**A/N**: OC alert. Please tell me your thoughts.

**Dedicated to: **Everyone who has so very kindly added me to their favourites list- for 'Far Away From Here.' It gives me the warm fuzzies, so thank you too: Fanfic Lover 4evr，Lorien Lupin，Queendel，Shadowed Eternity，Winterlove4，chibisanzo，magikphoenix，

Thanks for reviews to: Mariana, candise, angstman, Yolass, Coral Dawn, Arlad, Lize, Queendel, Moon71, Wolf-Bitc- sunny-seid-up, chibisanzo, Trust-No-One, khepri2. Very pleased at the response- thanks awfully!

Hephaestion gazed at Alexander, his mouth a thin hard line. "Then," he said clearly. "You will indeed have to put me in chains. I am no chattel nor woman to be so disposed of, and I will be damned to Tartarus before I take that from you. I've given you everything. My bloody self respect, my love, my entire life to your service. I entrusted my honour to you, and you trod it under foot as you would something vile. For Athena's sake," as always in his anger, Hephaestion's accent was getting stronger, "I've just told you why I did what I did. He drew his sword first, what in the pantheon was I supposed to do? Decline? Step backwards, and say 'so sorry I can't fight you like a man, the king might be angry.' I'm not a dog Alexander, I'm not a cur that will come licking to its masters hand after a whipping." He was breathing with difficulty now, his breath short as it sometimes was after protracted exercise or arguments. "You gave me an ultimatum. Stay by your side, and live by your rules. Well I'll be damned if I do that."

Alexander was furious himself, a rage that had made lesser men tremble before his very gaze. "If that is the way you want it to be, then that is the way it will be damn you. Leave, and I'll drag you back myself." A small detached part of his mind was utterly horrified by what he was saying, but his rage overwhelmed any of the reasonableness that he usually possessed. "I don't care if you hate me for it. I refuse to treat you differently from any other man in the army. From this time forth if you leave, you are a deserter, and will be given the usual punishment. Understood?"

Hephaestion's face was white, but his jaw was set. "Just try it Alexander," he hissed. "I'll stay all right. So much as speak to me though, and I'll carve your face off inch by inch. Touch me and Prometheus would be begging for mercy from what I'll do to you."

"Certainly," snarled Alexander. "Those terms are gladly accepted." Without a backward glance, he strode from the tent. If he _had _looked backwards he'd have seen Hephaestion collapse on the ground, clawing for breath, choking as his lungs tried to draw in air. Nothing could emerge from his mouth, except a pathetic strangled squeak, and a sudden terror flooded through him. He was going to die like this, he was going to choke to death on the ground. The thought so convulsed him, that his efforts to draw in breath were twice as hard, and half as successful. Someone came into the room. It was one of the camp followers, a slender woman named Leora, who after her husband- who had been one of Hephaestion's soldiers died, Hephaestion had taken under his protection, her swelling waistline the only thing her husband had left to her. He had given her a present of money, and she had arrived to thank him. Her dark eyes took in the situation swiftly, and immediately she called for Timonus who was only a little way off, telling him to get a bowl of steaming hot water instantly.

While she waited for the water, she knelt beside Hephaestion, trying in vain to get his attention. She gathered him to her, he was still a little younger than her, and rocked him as she would a babe, crooning nonsense words, attempting to still his breathing until it matched her regular pace. Urgently she told him, "take shallow breaths not deep. You can breathe, but panicking makes it worse." Her words finally seemed to penetrate his terror, and he tried what she had suggested, gradually calming down. Timonus appeared with the water, his eyes widening in fear, as he saw his lord being cradled on the ground. Leora gestured sharply. "You're his page aren't you?" she said, and without waiting for answer, ordered him to find some oils. When hastily he brought her some bathing oils, she looked professionally through them, putting a couple of droplets of an astringent one into the water. "Get the doctor," she commanded, and so shocked was Timonus that he didn't dispute the order from a woman, but scurried off. Leora held Hephaestion with gentle hands, moving the basin so he breathed in the fumes. Gradually he relaxed, and his breathing steadied.

"What happened?" he asked, bemused by the sudden turn of events, and sitting up suddenly. He was lying in Leora's lap, after an experience that felt like dying. He steadied himself with one hand, praying that Alexander hadn't seen his ignominious fall.

"You had difficulty breathing," was the soothing reply. "The doctor is coming soon." She blushed, as she said softly. "I'm very sorry, if I did wrong sir."

Hephaestion said wryly. "If you did do wrong, then I am very glad of it. How did you know what to do?"

"I had a brother who suffered from it for many years as a child. Even when he grew older, he still needed help when an attack came, though there is little more that can be done in such a circumstance." She stood, skirts rustling, lending her frail arm to help Hephaestion rise to sit on the bed.

"You are not trained in medicine then?" Hephaestion enquired, as with swift sure hands she propped up pillows behind him, with casual efficiency. She was not a woman on whom pregnancy sat well. Where some woman bloomed, indeed practically glowed with happiness and health, she was thin apart from the thickened waistline, and worn looking, lines prematurely etched into her face, her dark brown hair greasy, and two brittle nails had broken from the effort of lifting Hephaestion. In health she would have been pretty, in pregnancy she was old before her time, and a frown from many cares had settled on her forehead. Even so, she looked _maternal _in a way that Hephaestion's mother, much as he had loved her, never had. This woman looked sensible, the sort of person who could clean up vomit, if she really had to.

She shook her head in slight amusement. "My lord I am a woman. What knowledge I have of the healing arts came merely from watching my father a physician. I cannot read nor write," she confessed quietly. "But I manage well enough. When I return to Macedon, I will return to my family." She winced when she said this, and despite himself Hephaestion felt sympathy. To return a widow, with a child and no source of income would not be an easy thing to do.

The doctor bustled into the room at that moment, a man in his late thirties, and an impatient manner that could remarkably soften into gentleness. After a few curt questions he nodded at Leora. "Well done," he spat out the words as though they were distasteful. She nodded, slightly alarmed by him. She made her salutations to Hephaestion, and left swiftly. As the doctor told him to avoid stressful situations, and to burn a candle which he would provide at nights if he felt as though an attack might happen, he thought through the germ of an idea.

"Do you need an assistant?" he asked.

A snort was his first reply. "I need as many assistants as I can get." With his customary rudeness, he followed that up, "those boys serving as pages, would be much more useful learning medicine, than prancing around fetching wine. That Timonus of yours would probably be useful." He trailed off, eyes narrowing.

Hephaestion laughed at the idea. "Good luck with that. I think Timonus would keel over at the sight of a man's innards. A strong stomach is not one of his attributes. No I was thinking of that woman Leora..." he got no further.

"Are you actually suggesting I let a woman act as my assistant? She would be nothing but a hindrance, with a brain too small to be useful, and a belly too big to work around. A woman tending men, why she'd faint, or complain of the smells. I hope you were joking."

Hephaestion shrugged, a small movement of his shoulders. "Well as far as I can see it kills two birds with one stone. She's sensible, old enough to be mature and discreet, and with a child she'd be immune from gossip, especially if I put her into your care." He nodded. "You can choose whether you set her work, or if she merely stays in the room." Looking at the doctor, who was just about ready to explode, he added politely. "I will of course compensate you in this matter."

At this the doctor's wrath overflowed. "The very idea," he thundered. "I won't accept money for looking after a woman. Think of the whispers it would cause. She may stay with me, if you want, but under no circumstances is she acting as my assistant. Women don't have the sense of a goose, and I make almost no exceptions to that rule. They are all troublemakers and I make _no _exception to that rule." In high dudgeon, he removed himself forthwith from the tent, leaving Hephaestion laughing quietly. For all his bluster the doctor was kindly, and Hephaestion had an idea that perhaps Leora would be soon elevated into being cared for by a husband, as he believed was really necessary for a woman. As an afterthought, he reminded himself to tell Leora of the new arrangements.

Lying back, he breathed in deeply. The subsequent events had driven his meeting with Alexander right out of head, and now he was calm and unpreoccupied they returned. Along with his rage. Remembering what the doctor had said, he tried to ignore the boiling emotion and steady his breaths. So. He hadn't expected the affair to have reached that conclusion quite as stiffly, and he groaned as he turned his aching head. In the God's names why couldn't he have kept his temper for once, and not tossed out such a devastating ultimatum of his own, one that as soon as he had uttered it, he wished he hadn't. With anger now dwindling, and his sight returning clearer, he profoundly wished he could change time. His eyes felt hot and heavy, and he bent his head into his hand, wishing he could let the tears flow. Maybe his head wouldn't ache so much then. But his eyes stayed resolutely dry, and the only answer came to him. He was going to just have to make the best of it.

When a little time had passed, he levered himself upright, and slowly looked at his right hand. Alexander had given him a ring, years ago when they had first confessed love, a simple gold ring that weighed heavily in the hand, one given to Alexander by his mother, and Hephaestion had never taken it off since, though he had many times castigated himself for such weakness in failing to remove it, as though he were a sentimental girl in need of tokens to prove love. He hesitated, then started to worm the ring off his finger. When it was almost off, he stopped and looked at it, with a tumult of feelings inside him. Then with a small gesture that he despised, almost as much as the sentiment behind it, he thrust it back onto his hand. There had been love. On his side there was still love. With Alexander, only Alexander knew.

Timonus entered the tent, looking slightly confused. "My lord Craterus asks permission to speak to you my lord," he said. Hephaestion nodded, and the older man made his way into the tent. He looked ill at ease, even amongst the Spartan surroundings, as though he would rather be outside with more space to stretch his admittedly big body. Next to him Hephaestion was slender as a whippet, Craterus looking the ideal of the soldier, though he had premature grey in his hair, and his left hand had been badly set after a wound, leaving one finger permanently bent. They sat awkwardly, neither knowing what on earth to say first. Hephaestion was puzzled. He associated his disgrace with this man, and his feelings towards him were not polite or even tolerant at the moment, though usually they worked fairly well together.

Craterus started with his customary bluntness, the trait that made him so loved by his troops, who equated lack of subtlety with lack of guile, and were thoroughly wrong. Craterus was no simple fool. "I want to apologise." Hephaestion felt his temper rise at those words. If the fool had kept his mouth shut to begin with, none of this would have happened, but with all his Greek politeness, he nodded, and looked as though he was listening equably. Craterus continued. "If you wish me to Hephaestion, I will apologise publicly in front of the army. I feel it is the least I can offer after such an incident." Words seemed to fail him, and shrugging awkwardly he thrust out a big hand, offering it to Hephaestion, as though in peace. With little hesitation, Hephaestion shook it briefly and firmly.

"I accept your apology," he said. "It was probably my fault as well, I don't really respond well in fights. Apologizing in front of the army won't do anything except lower your stock with them. They'll think it was forced from you by Alexander. I appreciate the offer all the same, but it would appear there is no need for us both to have to eat humble pie."

Craterus smiled, a brief genuine smile. "I have a bit of a temper as you know," he said deprecatingly, ducking his head.

"In that we are well matched," Hephaestion said drily.

"I noticed," was the response. "I do things I regret sometimes in anger, and that was one of them. It was a foolish matter, not worth the time and energy, we spent on it. But that was not just what I came to talk to you about. I heard a rumour that you were planning to return to Macedon, and I wanted to ask you not to."

Hephaestion could not prevent one eyebrow from shooting up. "That rumour went round fast," he commented carefully. "I had indeed planned on returning to Macedon, but was convinced to remain." He was amused that it was Craterus who had come to ask him to stay. Before the argument, they had got on about as well as could be expected from two ambitious men, who though they shared similar goals, had totally different methods of accomplishing them. For all that Craterus had been one of the more trustworthy people that Hephaestion had known. He had the ability to speak his mind, which thrashed out problems wonderfully, even if on the rare occasion it turned a situation to blows. It would appear that Craterus felt the same way about Hephaestion's role in the command structure, if this apology was anything to judge by. He turned round, and poured two glasses of unmixed wine, handing one to Craterus. "To Alexander," he said ironically, and the other man unaware of the sarcasm drank deeply to the toast.

_Third chapter finished! Now comes the most difficult and delicate portion of this chapter. Is Leora a Mary Sue? I gave myself a little challenge to create an OC female character, who was not a Mary Sue, and with hope I succeeded. Anyhow hit me with the truth!_

_I also took a rather different view, in that Craterus and Hephaestion's argument was based on a disagreement to do with the army, rather than a personal insult contest, though a few personal insults were thrown._

_Reviews welcome!_

_A.W._


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Far Away From Here

**Chapter**: Four

**Fandom:** Alexander (historical)

**Rating:** PG-13 this chapter. Will rise by final.

**Summary**: That famous quarrel with Craterus, and Hephaestion's summary decision to return to Macedon.

**A/N**: OC still there. Thoughts welcomed

**Dedicated to: **The admissions tutor at Oxford. She won't ever read this, and I don't even know her, but thats the way it goes!

Thanks for reviews to: Salome, animelover52843, Yolass, candice, CoralDawn, Yaoi Angel, Arlad, Wolf Bitc, Manidefronsac, chibisanzo, Moon71, angstman, VaniaHepskins, lize, khepri2, fanfic lover 4ever, Mariana , Queendel, sunny-seid-up

Craterus stayed more than some time, talking over army matters, especially those concerning the division of the army, and morale. Hephaestion thinking of the loyalty his own troops had displayed towards him, shrugged the matter off easily on his own account, but he was able to intimate to Craterus without so much as a word on the subject that he was worried about Alexander's personal rating amongst the troops which had sunk to such a low pass. They were both intelligent men, well versed in the way of the world, and after so many years their instincts had sharpened to a honed edge concerning these matters. The wine flowed freely, well replenished by Timonus, who as befitted a good page, kept himself unobtrusive. His feet were aching, and he had promised to meet Laonicus as soon as he could, though at this rate it didn't look like he would be released before the early hours. Hephaestion's sharp eyes noticed his page's discomfort, and deciding he could be with dispensed with, dismissed him after instructions to fetch more wine. The wine duely arrived, and Timonus vanished into the gloom outside the tent.

Craterus held up a glass expansively. "Do you remember Alexander's sixteenth birthday?" he asked, and receiving Hephaestion's confirming nod, continued. "You were drunk as a lord, and you were just _sitting _there, drinking it down. No mess, no arguments, no fights even, until you just toppled off."

Hephaestion laughed, remembering. "Then _you _pulled me back up, and spilt your wine on me. And blamed me for it."

Craterus laughed, his eyes crinkling as he reminisced. "I know. I couldn't figure out who on earth you were, wasn't until later I realised you were Amytor's son." He stopped speaking, remembering the evening. He had been in his twenties, one of the men chosen to accompany Philip as an acting officer. He had indeed tipped wine over Hephaestion, who by that point was too sodden to even notice. "That was an evening," he remarked.

"Indeed it was," Hephaestion agreed. He didn't tell Craterus the brightest spot had been Alexander, putting him to bed, and the shy hesitant touch on one cheek. He sighed. "Where did those evenings go?" he asked, half plaintively, the memory still strong in his mind.

"I don't know," replied Craterus. "They seem to have vanished, somewhere back in the mists of Macedonia, and the days of yester-year," he stopped and squinted. "Poetry. I must be drunk." Sighing, he drank back half a glass, almost choking himself. "I don't know Hephaestion. Somewhere along this long tired trail, we seem to have lost all meaning. We drag ourselves onwards, but leave everything we care for behind." Hephaestion remembered Craterus had left a wife and child back in Macedonia, and had not remarried since. "I know you don't agree with me Hephaestion, but I hold to it anyway. It is the fault of that Persian luxury. He is surrounded by decadence, their eunuchs, their silks and perfumes, their effeminate nobles who will sell their loyalty to the highest bidder. They seek to mire him in the opulence of luxurious living, to him with comfort, to prevent him smelling the foul scent of corruption which surrounds him. They gift him with dancing-boys who beguile, yet whose tainted smiles are yet another symbol of the utter corruption of Persia. It makes me sick to my very soul."

Hephaestion stared into the depths of his own glass. "I know," he said quietly. "And his men grow apart from him. They do not have his innate curiosity, his knowledge that to conquer, you must assimilate and integrate. I will be honest with you. The Persians fascinate me objectively, as much as they repulse me in close view. I speak their language, know their etiquette, yet I still feel as though I do not understand them in the least, and the more I learn, the more I do not wish to understand them." He coughed. "I do what I do, because Alexander wishes me too. He needs someone who knows the rules, and is willing to learn every detail." He shook off the seriousness, by saying with a bright smile. "And there are some wonderful things about them. I hear even you Craterus gave in and bought that Persian . The beauty with the long hair, though she looks inexhaustible. You must be tired out."

Craterus grunted in agreement. "I'm afraid you are right Hephaestion." He poked the platter of food that Timonus had brought along with the last jugs of wine. "She doesn't understand a word I say, and I don't get a word she says. She simply smiles and nods, staring at me with huge blank eyes. I'm thinking of giving her away as a gift. You speak Persian don't you?" He nudged Hephaestion. "Say something in Persian." Hephaestion considered, and said something in Persian swiftly. Craterus narrowed his eyes. "You called me a 's son."

Surprise showed in Hephaestion's eyes. "You understood me?"

Craterus guffawed, and shook his head. "No, your insults are just too obvious." He tried a morsel of the meat, and Hephaestion took another. "Oh well," he said stretching. "Tomorrow Hephaestion is as always, another day." He paused suddenly, a memory swimming before his eyes. "About earlier," he said quietly. "I am truly sorry." He was referring to the incident, which had started as a quarrel over supplies, and ended a duel, each infuriated at the other's failure to see their point of view, and goaded into personal insults. "I did not mean any of it," he said, his eyes meeting Hephaestion's squarely.

Hephaestion nodded, "I didn't mean it either," he confessed. "And what happened after would have happened anyway."

Craterus lazily peered into the jug, "why, what happened afterwards?" he asked, more interested in the contents swirling provocatively at the bottom.

Hephaestion was well able to hold his drink, but they'd been through enough jugs to kill a lesser man, and his inhibitions were down to the floor, as were Craterus's. "Alexander threatened to throw me into prison if I dared leave. So I told him I'd rip him apart if he ever spoke to me again."

The jug dropped from nerveless fingers. Craterus peered drunkenly at Hephaestion. "You _what_?"

The answer that greeted him was bitter. "The whole camp will know soon enough, you might as well know now. The King and I, are no longer..." he fumbled for the right words, then threw up his hands. "You know what I mean." He relapsed into silence, fumbling for his glass, and drinking the dregs.

A long low whistle cut the air. "Not something I ever saw comin'," slurred Craterus, and his head hit the table. Hephaestion stared at him, the ready warmth and cheerfulness of the wine already dissipating, leaving him very cold, and very tired. Stumbling outside, he yelled for Timonus, not caring if he woke anyone else. It took a few minutes, but he finally appeared. In contrast to Hephaestion, he was starry eyed, bubbling over with an inexplicable kind of joy, with a ready smile on his lips. Hephaestion stared at him, trying to remember who he reminded him of. The answer was slow and unwilling. Alexander, the night he first kissed Hephaestion. That realisation made him much harsher than usual with his page. He snapped out orders, and together they swung Craterus onto the bed. No use trying to wake him now. Hephaestion made himself up a bed on the other side of the tent, from spare blankets, and from what he didn't like to acknowledge was pure spitefulness, ordered Timonus to stand watch for the night, and wake him at dawn.

His sleep was heavy, and filled with bad dreams, either from the superabundance of alcohol, or the after effects of the sudden breathing difficulty. When he woke, he was more bad tempered than ever, his natural irritableness showing clearly through, which combined with the ing hangover, made him insufferable. Timonus came in for a particularly bad half hour of it, soon after Craterus had left, bleary eyed, and headed for his own tent. Hephaestion was writing a note, when Timonus walked in, all shining eyes, and half smile, as though in some sort of dream. Hephaestion glanced up, lip curling. "I see Laonicus has finally made his intentions clear," he said sourly. "About time if you ask me."

Timonus timidly nodded. "Last night."

"I really should inform the King that he needs to keep a closer watch on that page. The boy already has a lover, and he's out all night as it, Gods know where." He watched with a clinical eye, the effect that had on the page. It was immediate and absolute, the eyes still shone, but with something closer to tears, and the joy faded from the face, leaving it lifeless and dull. He berated himself for his callousness, and his cruelty. Just because his own joy in love had faded, broken, didn't mean he needed to do it to others. He did his best to repair the damage. "I'm sorry boy, my head aches like Hades. I think you should go find Leona for me, and the doctor. Leona first I think." Timonus scurried out, as though the winds bore his feet.

He raced from the tent, then stopped and raised his arms to his face, roughly wiping away the tears that had gathered. So stupid to cry over Laonicus, he wasn't a . But he had really thought.. last night. It had felt so real, nothing like he'd thought it would. They hadn't done anything even, just talked and sat there, and when Timonus had to attend to Hephaestion, Laonicus had briefly kissed him. And now.. to find out from Lord Hephaestion's lips that he was quite possibly only one of many. Surely Lord Hephaestion would not lie? He shook the thoughts away, and went to find Leona. She was alone, and came quite readily.

Hephaestion glanced up, and escorted her in. "I have solved a problem," he began without preamble. "I am grateful for the assistance you rendered me last night, and I am not unmindful of my promise to do well by you. Which is why I have arranged for you to be taken under the protection of the doctor. He will see to your welfare, the safety of your child and will prevent you from being a burden on your family. He insists that women know nothing of medicine, but it may be that duties may arise which he will ask you to take care of, and I wish you to do so." He looked at her shrewdly. "If you have a son, I shall sponsor his upbringing, if a daughter then I will make provision for a dowry of some kind. Is this acceptable to you?" Her consent was really only nominal.

Nodding helplessly, she kissed his hand. "Thank you my lord," she said through her tears. "I shall do my best by you."

He smiled absentmindly. "The doctor will be here soon. I think you should stay and meet him properly, especially since there is something I need to say to you both." At that moment the doctor entered, and Hephaestion nodded. "I must ask both of you to remain silent about the attack I suffered yesterday. It is imperative no-one gets to hear of it. Have either of you mentioned it?" They both shook their heads and he sighed in relief. "Good. Now perhaps you would like to get acquainted yourself."

It was a polite dismissal, and they walked to the door together, their conversation fading. "How long have you been expecting?"

"Four and a half months."

"You're carrying high, that usually the sign of a boy..."

The details of gynaecology floated in the air a moment, before they faded leaving Hephaestion alone with his thoughts. He had not yet seen Alexander, and he gritted his teeth against the inevitable council being held that afternoon.

Alexander for his own part was still raging like a caged beast, in his own tent. "Who does he think he is?" he asked Bagoas through gritted teeth. His page, frightened by the King's mood, had summoned Bagoas who seemed to have a knack for calming the king down in these sorts of mood. The eunuch sat, his legs curled up under him, still slim and young. No-one but he knew the fight it took to keep himself that way, the fight it took to resist the corpulence that overwhelmed so many of his fellow-eunuchs, the self denial. He listened, his watchful eyes gleaming, following Alexander as he paced. "How dare he, _how dare he _presume to know what to do. I gave him a direct order, and he resents it."

Bagoas had no answer. There was one, but he could not tell Alexander it- it was not for a lowly eunuch to voice. Alexander loved the fool, more than he loved anyone else, and it had blinded him to the obvious. Hephaestion was a man, not just a lover. Bagoas did not know that he was reaching the same conclusion as Hephaestion had, only slightly changed around. Alexander did not see in Hephaestion, the same faulty man, he saw perfection almost without flaw, and for Hephaestion to break that illusion of his own accord was devastating. Alexander saw properly for the first time that his love was merely a man, like all others, filled with pride, and anger. He did not voice his own hope, even to his secret mind. Alexander loved pliability, softness, willingness, all that Hephaestion _wasn't._ Perhaps now he would give up on the other man, and turn to find that comfort elsewhere. However he first tried to calm Alexander down. "Iskander," he began in his soft voice."

A vase hurtled past his head. "You fool! Will you stop in the name of the Gods, calling me that? I know you can say Alexander, so do it, or call me sir."

Bagoas tugged his dignity around him more tightly like a robe. "Sir," he repeated, wary of a slip of the tongue, "Lord Hephaestion is very proud," _there _he thought, with a little satisfaction. _Let that reinforce itself in his mind. _"He is impetuous. You must let him calm, and ask your forgiveness." Bagoas knew as did every man in the army, that Hephaestion would not, _could _not do such a thing, indeed that almost no Macedonian man could so such a thing and retain his pride. He thought rather contemptuously of the Macedonians. No Persian man would have done such a thing as challenge the king in such a manner, and if by some aberration of nature they had, they would have lost no time in apologising to the man they had offended. The man who firmly held the reins of power. Hephaestion was an utter mystery to him. How could a man such as he, hold down an office, and the love of a man? In Bagoas's world, love was reserved strictly for those designed for such function, perhaps a wife even.

He slipped off his chair, and walked carefully towards Hephaestion. "He has angered you my lord," he murmured quietly. "He does not understand you, or what you need." Bagoas gently placed his hands on Alexander's shoulders, beginning to rub. Alexander's head dropped.

"What _do_ I need Bagoas?" he asked softly. "I don't want anything except for what I cannot have, and I can't have him. You can't understand. He is my other half, he completes me as no other man or woman could do, with all his faults, flaws and quirks. There can't be anyone else for me." He seemed utterly unaware that he was speaking to Bagoas, he was looking into the distance, as though merely talking out loud to himself. "So why would he do so such a thing?"

Bagoas bit back his first reply, and thought a little, on why he disliked Hephaestion. Perhaps it was connected to his mercy. When he had first been gifted to Alexander, he had been made well aware by every woman in the army, just exactly what he was entering. And after that first night, he had been sent to Hephaestion's room, to offer himself as though he was a piece of meat. The man on the bed, had looked at him with an impersonal kind of curiosity, as though wondering what on earth he was doing there, and had sent him back with an insult. Alexander had been in a temper, and Bagoas had been informed by someone who had heard the entire thing, that he had offered to give Bagoas away, and that Hephaestion had stayed his hand. Such favours do not make the recipient feel kindly towards their benefactor.

Whatever the reason, he disliked Hephaestion helplessly, and with all the more reason because Hephaestion did not even seem to notice he existed. He would look puzzled, and smile politely if he passed Bagoas, but there was never a sign of recognition, never a hint that he thought of Bagoas in the slightest, as a rival or otherwise. The old man who had cut Bagoas, had instilled in him the basic principles of his job. He was an article, to be used when desired, and ignored when not. Many eunuchs had secondary purposes such as secretaries, and many rose to great power, like his namesake Bagoas, but the primary function Bagoas himself had been cut for was pleasure. He had been a beautiful child, and his parents very poor, and though sorry to do such a thing, had convinced themselves it was their only option. Because of this, the first thing the old man had done, was caution him. As a eunuch, he must never presume on affection or loyalty, must never ask for anything that he was not offered. When he had been given to Alexander, the King had been the first person in his life whom had treated him kindly, giving him small presents from time to time, correcting his mistakes and even allowing him to talk sometimes, and Bagoas had found love growing in his heart for him. Though he did not realise it, it was the love of a child starved of affection and kindness, the simple whole-hearted adoration of someone who had never properly been a child, and who would never properly be a man. He did not realise this, to him love was only an act to be performed, the only way he could show his devotion. He did not care about the other areas of Alexander's life, the other ways Alexander loved, and to be put aside in favour of one whom already owned so much of the King's heart was unbearable.

The only thought in his usually quick and able mind, was that perhaps now that Hephaestion was gone, Alexander would turn elsewhere for comfort. He could never hope to equal Alexander in anything, but he could at least give him everything.

"He does not know himself I would hazard my lord," were the words he spoke.

Alexander impatiently shrugged himself free of Bagoas's hands. "Not now," he hissed. "Why am I talking to you about this. You can't understand, you never will understand." He poured himself a glass of water. "Go," he said wearily, and Bagoas backed away and out. Alexander was right, he never would be able to understand. Especially why Hephaestion was the object of the King's desire. It could not be physical, Bagoas knew that much, or at least not merely physical. Alexander's type tended to be sweet and supple, with perfect features. Hephaestion was tall, and though slender, carried the muscles of a warrior, the skin on his hands, and arms occasinally scarred. His dark hair, and grey eyes were interesting, but by no means exceptional, and his face though handsome, was by no means as regular and enticing as was commonly considered beautiful. It was an enduring question to Bagoas, what precisely King Alexander found attractive in Lord Hephaestion.

That afternoon, a council was held. The air was remarkably tense, since as Hephaestion had predicted everyone knew now at least roughly, what precisely had happened. Hephaestion was sitting on one side of Craterus, at the end of the table, while at the other end Alexander held forth about his plans. Though he spoke to every individual, he pointedly ignored Hephaestion, instead letting Hephaestion know of his duties, by loudly enumerating them to Perdicaas. Craterus shifted uncomfortably on his seat, and when Alexander was occupied in talking to someone else, he spoke to Hephaestion. "I to say it," he whispered. "But this is the most childish display I have seen in years. Why don't you both grow up, how on earth is not even talking supposed to remedy things?"

Hephaestion muttered back, one eye on Alexander. "It's not childish. I am making a point."

"Yes it is childish," cut in Craterus. "I remember that summer where you and Alexander didn't talk at all, all you did was fight, and look how _that _turned out. Why don't you grow up?"

Hephaestion sputtered. "I don't notice you telling that to Alexander," he pointed out. "He's the one who isn't talking to me. And he is the one who insulted me yesterday in case you had forgotten. By the Gods, he may be your king, but that doesn't mean he can't be wrong. And you weren't there during that summer." He could feel the slow, steady tide of rage rising up at the thought, and sought to stem it. There was an awkward silence for a moment, as they all remembered Cleitus.

"Only because you probably made it clear you didn't want him to talk to you." Hephaestion shot a startled look at him which was easily interpreted. "It's the sort of thing you might say."

"Am I really that predictable?" asked Hephaestion regretfully, and was faced with a nod. "Oh," was his rather muted reply. Then sensing the glance of the king, they turned their attention back to the table.

_Well that was unusual. I don't think I've ever seen Craterus written quite like that before, which isn't actually something to recommend it. I just had this idea, that maybe his character could be taken in a different direction than usual. Very little Alexander/ Hephaestion interaction in this I'm afraid. _

_Also, it looks like this might be rather longer than I had anticipated, I don't think it can be wound up in one more chapter. Sorry!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Far Away From Here

**Chapter**: Five

**Fandom:** Alexander (historical)

**Rating:** PG-13 this chapter. Will rise by final.

**Summary**: That famous quarrel with Craterus, and Hephaestion's summary decision to return to Macedon.

**A/N**: First things first. It has been so long since this has been updated that I feel obligated to give the reasons. I went through a lot of upheaval which resulted in moving right before my exams, and then having to take those exams which determine the course of my life for the next three years. Those of you who know me, know that when I start writing I cannot stop and work instead. As it happened I might as well have written Alexander fanfiction since I appear to have failed anyway! Anyhow here is the update finally, and Forgotten Lakes is out soon :)

**Dedicated to: Moon71 **for not forgetting that me and my fanfiction ever existed XD

Thanks to: Salome, Coraldawn, khepri2, lize, Yolass, Baliansword, bob, HavenRain, Arlad, Queendel, SilverblackWolf13, SongNatasha, angstman, Yaoi Angel, for the reviews!

Leona looked at her hands, and folded them neatly on her stomach. Her clothing was tidy, plain brown homespun that modestly covered her. Her hair was gathered back into a braid, making it appear less greasy, and her eyes seemed brighter. She was ensconced in a tent, and in front of her were a number of tinctures, and piles of dried herbs. The doctor was gruffly avoiding eye contact, as he showed her how to wield a mortar and pestle to crush the herbs for him to use. Leona was not stupid, and she carefully refrained from telling him that she had done this for years. Instead she merely followed his instructions closely, and meticulously continued after he left the room. The work was not arduous, and even if it had been she would not have complained. It had taken a week for the doctor to realise that even a pair of unskilled female hands would be useful in simple jobs such as preparation. She continued grinding absentmindedly as she thought of her husband. Unbidden tears sprung to her eyes at the painful memory, and she shook them away grimly. He was dead and she could not forgive him for what he had done to her and her unborn child.

When the doctor returned he was surprised to see that she had not only finished with the dried herbs that she had been given, but had also taken the initiative in collecting water, for him to soak the herbs in later. He muttered something, and showed her the linen strips he used as bandages. In an army as large as this one there was never enough supplies, so bandages were washed and used again. She automatically began sorting through them, grading them in size, barely noticing him leaving, absorbed once more by her own thoughts. Her skilled fingers were neat and deft, and she did not have to think as she sorted, leaving her open to more painful remembrances. When she next looked up, the sky was dark, and tea steamed upon the table. She hesitantly smiled, and took a sip from the cup, savouring the bitter taste.

A wave of memory hit her and she shuddered. A bitter taste lingering in her mouth, as she remembered the loathsome creature who had given her the herbs that would shake the babe she carried loose from her womb. A camp follower no better than a prostitute, had slipped them into her hand with the muttered instruction to brew a tea, to drink it then to exercise hard. She had come so close to taking the well meant advice, to ridding herself of a burden that seemed too heavy to carry alone. She realised she had dropped the cup, and with shaking hands she knelt to pick it up. Even now she was unsure that she had done the right thing in choosing to keep it.

The doctor looked in. "Well done," he complimented her, the grudging words seemingly having to tear themselves away from his mouth. Then a rebuke followed. "You should have ceased working earlier. Undue exertion will not be good for your child." He turned away, and took a bottle down from the shelf. "Take a measure of this," he instructed, "it will strengthen you, and help the babe." She took it obediently, poured a dram and drank it, barely wincing at the taste. Replacing it carefully on the shelf, she took her leave, retiring to her narrow pallet, where she curled up, and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth and comfort.

The doctor, satisfied that she was asleep, packed away the work she had done, rather approving of the neatness. Then with an expert eye he gauged the shelf of medicines. The lord Alexander had been complaining of difficulty sleeping. He took down a dark bottle, and made his way from the tent. Medicines destined for King Alexander were delivered by hand always, not trusted to pages naturally. The King was alone, poring over a map, yet courteous as always he looked up as the doctor entered the tent, and listened carefully to the instructions. He smiled absently as he took the bottle and thanked him. Then turning back to his work, he paused for a moment. "I hear you have taken on an apprentice," he said without much thought on the matter.

The doctor swelled up like a bullfrog. "Certainly not," he thundered, then remembering who he was talking too tacked on a 'my lord.' Calming, he explained himself. "I have taken her on as a favour to Lord Hephaestion," he said, noticing how Alexander's eyes darkened with rage at the mention of that name. "He asked that I become the protector of her and her child, now that her husband is dead. The lady in question assists me with some of the things that woman's minds are capable of." Alexander made no reply, and the doctor turned after a polite bow to leave. Alexander made no move to question him further.

Instead he turned back, shaking with anger to his books. So Hephaestion had his whore did he? And a child. His vision blurred, and he clutched hard to the side of the table. Gods. A child. His hands closed even tighter onto the edge, and he took a moment to try and steady himself. Why hadn't Hephaestion told him this _before _their argument. A small, cold lingering doubt answered his question quietly. Their argument had just been an excuse for Hephaestion to leave him, to reject his touch. To give the love that Alexander had fought to earn, to some bitch of a woman, who had been able to give the other man something he must have desperately wanted. Some woman with a dead husband, not even fresh and young. A low animal sound came from his mouth, a guttural sound of hurt and pain.

_A child_.

Hephaestion sat alone in his own tent, contemplating the situation. A sense of sick desperation surrounded him, and he bent almost double as he tried to hold it within himself. He could not even begin to analyse the tumult of emotion within him, didn't even want to try. He was so tired, tired enough to just lie back and sleep, sleep without waking. But that wasn't an option here. Timonus looked at him timidly. "My lord," he said quietly, wary of Hephaestion's freshly awakened temper. "Lord Denaris would like to speak to you."

Hephaestion sighed. "Show him in," he said with little interest. After Alexander had made it clear that under no circumstances was Hephaestion going to be allowed to return to Macedon, he had been forced to resume his command, relegating Denaris to second in command again, something he felt bad about. Even worse, for hearing the sympathetic grumbles of the men, and their looks of anger at Alexander. Not one of them would have dared express their feelings to Hephaestion of course, their respective ranks forbade such a thing, such a showing of pity and fellow feeling, but all the same they managed to make it clear what they felt.

Denaris entered. He bore in his hands as usual all the papers which related to the day to day running of their section of the army, and spread them out on the table. Hephaestion never neglected his duties, and he was unstinting of both time and effort, so these sessions usually went by smoothly. On the other hand his face was so blank, that even his friends found it impossible to broach personal topics, anything that required more than surface acquaintance. Especially nothing involving Alexander. That was a forbidden topic, and no matter how desperately Denaris wished that there was someway to demonstrate his friendship and support for Hephaestion, there was never going to be an opportunity in which the dark haired younger man would allow such a display. They had dismissed Timonus- though Hephaestion liked to give his pages hands on experience of the various things that went into running an army, and even gave them special instruction upon it, there was no point when it was merely routine and general business that they were embarking upon.

Timonus took his leave quietly, after bringing a jug of wine and two cups for their refreshment. Usually he would have gone straight to find out whether Laonicus has been given similar release from his nightly duties, but Hephaestion's comments still rang in his ears, the hurtful words that had made him doubt whether his instincts were right and true. There was no reason for Lord Hephaestion to lie, he told himself again sternly, and Laonicus was certainly conventionally attractive. It made sense that he already had a lover. Probably someone of high rank, maybe even one of the other commanders, whose own pages had lost their charm and freshness. With a sigh he sat on the ground, not far from the tent, near enough that if he was summoned he would hear, and proceeded to gaze at the stars, doing his best to cleanse his mind of his worries and his doubts. He had almost succeeded in doing so, when a familiar voice hailed him, and he winced hoping it didn't show. Laonicus sat down beside him. "Why didn't you come to find me?" he asked cheerfully, leaning over to kiss the other boy on the mouth.

Timonus turned his head, and managed to avoid the kiss, letting it touch his cheek instead. "You know how things are," he said in a steady light tone. "It's hard to get free time, and I don't really want to risk wandering off while Lord Hephaestion is in the mood he is in." He didn't mention the attack he had seen Lord Hephaestion suffer after that dreadful argument.

To his fortune Laonicus seemed to accept the argument. "I know how you feel," he said wrinkling his nose. "King Alexander has been in a terrible mood since the fight." He seemed far less concerned about it, than Timonus felt.

Timonus gazed at him in wonder. "It's terrible," he said briefly. "They truly hate each other so badly." He stared down at the ground. "What happens if Lord Hephaestion does leave and return home? What will happen to us all?"

He felt a hand ruffle his hair. "They don't hate each other," Laonicus said quietly. "If they truly hated each other, then one or the other would be dead by now, or Hephaestion would have been _sent _back to Macedon. I don't know what is going to happen. I have never seen the King so distraught. He can't sleep, he barely eats, and he only talks to that eunuch of his," he could barely prevent his face wrinkling in distaste. Laonicus was not a friend of Bagoas, despising as most of the Macedonian's did, the pampered, tweezered hairless Persian whose only business was to cater to the comforts of the King in ways that no Macedonian men of the same age would. It was true that many pages shared the beds of their commanders, but it was not in the same way. Physical comfort and connection perhaps, enjoyment, and the promise that one day they would be the warriors. Bagoas was bred for such a purpose, and nothing else, forbidden even to carry a weapon lest he try and take his own life as so many eunuchs did when they began to age. Bagoas didn't appear to notice the camp's opinion of him- at any rate he held his head high and proudly, gliding past the sneers and jibes.

The thought did not occur to Laonicus, or indeed to anyone else within the camp, that it was precisely this that had sharpened the edge of Hephaestion's anger, to a point that made him turn on Alexander to such an extent. In his own way, Hephaestion suffered as much as Bagoas from the snide remarks and looks of lesser men. Not from his own troops certainly, who would kill to avenge such an insult, but from others in the army who wondered around the crudity of their tent fires, what precisely Lord Hephaestion must do to keep King Alexander's ear listening. It showed in their eyes, in their insolence, in their lackadaisical salutes, that seemed to scream clearer than anything that they knew he was no warrior, merely a higher class whore, bought with an army rather than coin. No wonder Hephaestion sought to preserve his rank in whatever way he could, and that included foolhardy duels. Things can bring a brave man down, where armies fail. The insults and slights of those with no right to pass judgement, can strike more deeply than blades of bronze or steel, and there is many a man who would rather be stabbed in the heart, than have his manhood impugned- and worst of all be unable to revenge it. For Hephaestion could never turn his sword upon Alexander, and not just because he was the king.

Timonus sighed quietly. "Lord Hephaestion has changed," he muttered. "Nothing is the same as it once was." He did not mention what concerned him the most, the revelation about Laonicus himself. He didn't have to since Laonicus brought it up himself.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked looking away from Timonus.

Timonus's reply sounded unconvincing even to his ears. "No not at all."

It was Laonicus's turn to sigh. "If I angered you by being bold enough to steal a kiss then you should say so. Then I'll know not to make the same mistake." This last was said with just a touch of petulance.

Timonus shook his head. "I'm not angry about that." He fell silent and licked his lips nervously. Thankfully at that moment Denaris walked past, and told him Hephaestion wanted him back. Timonus jumped up thankfully, and bowed to Denaris. "Night," he said to Laonicus, and dashed off leaving the other boy extremely confused.

Laonicus headed back to Alexander's space, slipping quietly in towards his sleeping pallet, noticing that not even the eunuch attended Alexander now, though the King was not asleep. He looked round at the other pages who attended the King, and slipped in amongst them, hoping they had not noticed his absence. A stern voice arrested him. "Laonicus. Here now." Laonicus slipped into the main part, and stood ready to receive his orders making sure not to fidget. Nervous people annoyed Alexander, and when the king was in such a volatile mood it was wise not to do anything that could bring attention to you. Yet Alexander made no move to commission him to take a letter or request a meeting. Instead he looked at Laonicus penetratingly. "You're friends with Lord Hephaestion's page aren't you? What's his name- Timonus?" Laonicus nodded timidly. "Very well. "I want you to find out what Lord Hephaestion is planning from him. The boy is weak willed, it should be easy enough."

Laonicus bit back his first horrified response. The King was _spying _on his erst-while friend. Then he realised it was not quite as sinister as it first appeared. If the King truly wanted information it would be easy enough to get it through his spy-master, and the information would be far more accurate. It was obvious that what the King wanted was a personal account. He hesitated for a second. It would mean using Timonus. He remembered the other boy turning away from his kiss, and nodded firmly. "Yes sir," he said quietly.

_A shorter chapter than usual, and merely filler. It's to help me get back into the swing._

_Alexander meets Craterus. Hephaestion talks to Bagoas. Alexander and Hephaestion have another encounter next chapter. Keep an eye out for it ;)_

_Reviews very welcome_

_A.W._


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